


I Look To You (An Azure Moon)

by ChronoXtreme



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Byleth hates horses, Byleth misses her dad, Daggers, Dimileth Week (Fire Emblem), F/M, Fluffy Ending, Horseback Riding, Hurt/Comfort, Letters, Matter of Life and Death, Professor Byleth, Reunions, Weddings, World Travel, Wow I'm actually doing this, shared hobby, some hate her back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronoXtreme/pseuds/ChronoXtreme
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles for Dimileth Week 20191. Journey's End (Day 1: Modern AU - Complete)2. Letters (Day 2: Battle/Struggle - Complete)3. Together We Ride (Day 3: Past/Future - Complete)4. Something Blue (Day 4: Wedding - Complete)5. Day 5: Ball/Dancing6. Day 6: Memory7. Free Day





	1. Journey's End

Dimitri couldn’t help but shuffle back and forth in excitement, trying to keep his grip on the bouquet from becoming a stranglehold.

Goddess, it had only been two weeks —  _ two weeks, _ his heart protested — but it had felt like an eternity since Byleth had left with her students for their research trip to Sreng. Of course he’d been supportive of the trip, especially considering Byleth’s recent steps towards attaining tenure at Garreg Mach University. But this was also her first trip since they’d been married last spring. Their first parting that was longer than a few hours or a few days. 

And, well, Dimitri hadn’t handled it very well. 

He’d  _ tried _ to be considerate of his wife’s busy schedule, keeping a clock on his phone that was adjusted to Sreng’s timezone so that he wouldn’t text her too early or too late. He’d also limited the texts to two per day: one in the morning so the first thing she’d see would be his words of love and encouragement, and one at night so that he’d rest easy. Of course, she’d also sent him texts during the day, mainly pictures of students participating in field studies or tourist attractions, and he’d respond to those. But still, it didn’t feel like it was enough. Even FaceTiming wasn’t enough. He missed her warmth, her laughter at one of his awful jokes he’d learned from Alois, glancing over at her and catching her elusive yet beautiful smile.

The nights were the worst. Having Byleth at his side while he slept was a comfort in and of itself, and waking up from a nightmare to cold sheets at his side was a dull pain he’d been forced to readjust to. Without her calming words and gentle presence, sleeping was difficult, almost impossible. It had gotten so bad one night that he’d had to call Dedue to help him calm down. 

But despite the discomfort, it hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared. With dutiful reminders from Byleth (and Dedue, most likely at her insistence) to take his antidepressants in the morning, to work piling up on his desk (he suspected Ingrid had something to do with that), he had managed to survive. No serious attacks, no days he spent only in bed. 

Maybe… maybe he was making progress on his own after all. 

Still, he was very much prepared to spend the next few days glued to his wife’s side, and judging by the texts she’d sent him before she’d gotten on her flight, she was also excited to see him. Oh goddess, he just couldn’t wait! 

He glanced at his watch, checking the time. His brow furrowed.  _ Byleth’s plane should have gotten in by now. _ Knowing her, she would text him when the plane landed to let him know she was coming. Yet it had been 15 minutes since her scheduled arrival time. 

Digging his phone out of his coat pocket, he tapped on the Fhirdiad International Airport’s homepage and looked up her flight number. Then, he groaned.

_ Flight 287, Zraditch — Fhirdiad Int., delayed by half hour due to turbulent conditions. _

Of course. Of course it was delayed. Of course this separation had to last just a little longer. He wondered if the Goddess enjoyed this, milking out the moment as much as she could. 

_ Relax. Relax. Breathe. It will be okay. It’s a thirty minute delay. _ Thirty minutes was nothing, right? Nervously he glanced down at the bouquet of flowers in his hand — Dedue had put it together for him, with Ashe’s help — and judged it to be in no imminent danger of wilting. Truth be told, he had wanted to go with an entire flower display, along with some assorted chocolates and perhaps champagne. But he knew Byleth would prefer something small and heartfelt; not to mention how exhausted she would be after this trip. 

“Sir, if you’re waiting for an arriving flight, you can sit over here,” a passing security guard said, gesturing to a few rows of benches nearby. “The bad weather’s delaying a lot of incoming flights.” 

“I’m all right,” he said softly. “I prefer standing.” In this position, he could see arriving passengers much better than from the benches.

The woman gave him a knowing smile, then continued on her way. Sighing, Dimitri shuffled in place once more, his eye darting repeatedly back towards his phone screen. Hopefully whatever foul weather was keeping him from his beloved would clear up soon. 

Unfortunately, Dimitri was not well known for his patience. 

It felt like an eternity later (but in actuality had been 43 minutes) when he felt his phone buzz in his hand. Quickly he unlocked it and tapped on the new text message.

**Byleth: hey sorry for the delay. plane just landed, we’ll be out in 10 minutes. How are you?**

He smiled.  _ Very glad to hear from you. I’m so sorry about your flight.  _

**Byleth: yeah, it was just going around in circles until we could land. did you wait long?**

_ No. I’m sure you’re exhausted, though. Would you like me to buy you a coffee? _

**Byleth: PLEASE**

**Byleth: we’re getting out now, see you in a few. :)**

Grinning from ear to ear, he quickly tucked his phone away and searched for the closest coffee shop. 

And thirteen minutes later, he held his wife in his arms, flower petals flying around them from the force of her flying embrace. “I missed you,” she whispered, and the feeling of her breath against his neck was heavenly. He only kissed her forehead in response, and at the sound of giggling, turned around to see a group of teenagers eyeing them — Byleth’s students, he realized. His cheeks flushed. 

“Ah, ignore them,” she murmured, sinking into his arms. “They’re not my responsibility anymore.” 

He chuckled. “Drink your coffee, beloved. You’ll feel much better.”

Taking the cup from his hands, her eyes twinkling as she looked at the flowers, she replied, “I already do.”


	2. Letters

Once, Dimitri had bathed himself in blood. 

The heavy tang of iron and salt had filled him with euphoria, the thrill of battle. The color had washed over everything he saw, a world made crimson with rage. The feeling, hot and slick against his face, drove him only forward. 

Even now, blood enthralled him, though it was not the bloodlust that consumed him in the past. Each drop spilt was a drop spared for his men. Each breath full of its stench filled him with longing for a day when no one would remember that scent. 

But in this moment, the sight of blood filled him with terror. 

Byleth coughed, her lips painted scarlet, and his chest constricted as he felt warm wetness seep underneath his palm through the hastily applied bandage. This was the third one, and the bleeding wasn’t stopping. Shouldn’t it be stopping? His hand felt too large against her stomach, Byleth’s lips quivering as she struggled to stay silent. Separated as they were from the main army, stealth was critical. 

“H-How… How does it look?” she rasped, her eyelids drifting dangerously low.

“It… It’s still bleeding, I think,” he said, swallowing thickly as he reached back with his free hand for the medical kit he’d scrounged off a fallen soldier. “I’ll redress it.”

Byleth shook her head, only a tiny motion but one that he understood nonetheless. “Just… Keep applying pressure. Wait until the vanguard catches up.” Another cough burst past her lips, and he cringed as she let out a whimper. If only he’d thought to carry a concoction, or even a vulnerary. It wouldn’t heal the wound entirely, but it would soothe the pain, at the very least. 

Goddess, he was no healer. He’d never even mastered the first level of healing magic, unable to make that soft green glow materialize under his fingers. He’d learned field medicine, but it seemed so inadequate as he watched his beloved professor struggle to breathe.

She’d taken that blast from the mage for him. Somehow, she’d been able to shove him out of the way just before the bolt of lightning had struck her. The air had crackled around him, his hair standing on end as he watched her crumple. 

The mage had died instantly after, a broken spear impaled through his face. 

Byleth’s ragged sigh brought him back to the present, and his eye widened in terror as he saw her own drift closed. “Professor!” he urged, shaking her shoulder. “You need to stay awake!” Quickly, he pulled another wad of cloth from the kit, pulling back his bloodstained hand to add another layer to the field dressing. 

Goddess, how could someone so small bleed so much? 

“Dim… Dima.” 

“You’ll be all right, Professor,” he said through gritted teeth, reapplying pressure. “You’re going to be just fine. Keep your eyes open.” 

Something warm and soft covered his hand, and he looked down to see her own resting atop his. Her eyes were open, but they were cloudy, her face disturbingly serene. “I think… we both know I don’t have much time left,” she breathed. 

“Don’t say that,” he nearly growled. 

The barest hint of a smile graced her face as she looked at him. “It’s… okay.” Another shaky breath, then: “I… wrote letters.”

He blinked. “Letters?”

“F-For… everyone.” Her fingers wrapped around his palm, her grip tremulous. “If I…” Her voice trailed off, and a lump rose in his throat as he realized what she was saying. “In my desk, in the classroom… top drawer.” Shakily, she drew in another breath. “There is… something for you. I want you… to have it.” 

His eye burning with unshed tears, he clumsily brushed away the hair clinging to her face. “Then you will have to give it to me yourself,” he murmured, meeting her eyes. “As for those letters… You might need to put them somewhere else when we get back to the monastery. I may be tempted to read them.” 

Her smile widened, but he did not miss the tears in her eyes. “I’m… being serious… Dimitri.”

His hand grasped her own. “So am I.”

A laugh, choked and pained though it was, escaped her lips, just as two tears escaped her eyes. “You… never let up… do you?” 

“Just as my professor taught me,” he replied, shakily returning her smile. 

And then, he heard voices: “I saw them go this way!”

_ Damn it all. _ He released her hand to grasp Areadbhar, keeping the other over her wound. He’d hoped their hushed conversation wouldn’t be overheard, but considering his luck… 

“Professor!” 

“Your Highness!”

His eye widened. That was…  _ Dedue? Ashe? _

“Over here!” he bellowed. “Bring a healer! The professor’s injured!” Smiling, he turned back to look at Byleth. “See, Professor? There was no need to—”

Byleth’s eyes were closed. Her chest did not move. The only color on her face was blood coating her lips. 

_ “Professor!” _

* * *

Recovery was always a struggle for Byleth. 

She always longed to be out on the battlefield, or in the war room, devising their next route to advance through Imperial territory. But Mercedes had been insistent on keeping her from doing either.  _ “You barely made it through this time, Professor,”  _ she had whispered when Byleth came to in the infirmary.  _ “You need to give yourself time to heal.” _

She was right. 

And… Dimitri was right too. 

Carefully, leaning on the crutch to take some weight off, she hobbled to the front of her old classroom. Monks and soldiers had cleaned the place, repairing the broken windows and taking the old desks out to be reused as building material. Still, the Blue Lions classroom felt like home as she finally rounded the desk, wincing from the strain. 

Her desk creaked as she coaxed open the top drawer. There, in plain sight, rested a stack of letters. She had penned them over the months spent when Dimitri’s anger ruled him, unsure of whether she would survive to see his victory over Edelgard. After that night in the rain, her confidence in seeing the future increased. 

But there was always the uncertainty. The risk. The struggle to survive. 

She would always place the lives of her former students above her own. That was her role as their teacher, and as their leader. Dimitri violently disagreed, and she couldn’t help but smile at his concern over her as he lingered in the infirmary, asking if she needed anything. Of course, he had lectured her afterwards on her self-sacrificing behavior. She had agreed to reflect on her actions. 

Slowly, her stomach muscles protesting, she reached down and withdrew the small pouch nestled behind her stack of letters. Teasing it open, she let the ring inside fall into her palm, staring at the intricate design. 

_ “You will have to give it to me yourself.” _

Smiling, she closed her fingers around the ring, bringing her fist to her chest.  _ I will, Dima. Not now, but I will.  _

When this war was over, when they both lived to see the dawn of a new era, she would give it to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oho, we're back to writing some good ol' angst!
> 
> Sorry that this is late too, I'm always running behind, but I really loved this idea. It was inspired by a scene one of my favorite TV shows, where the injured character tells her friend that if she dies, she's got a bunch of letters saved on her computer and tells him the password to open the files. His reply: "Aw man, now you gotta change your password!" 
> 
> Hopefully I'll have the next prompt up soon. Enjoy!


	3. Together We Ride

There was nothing that Dimitri enjoyed more than a ride in the countryside with his beloved.

When the roundtable conferences grew too hostile, when the demands for both the Church and the Kingdom to bend over backwards grew too heavy, and when the distance between him and Byleth grew too far to bear, riding his horse with her back against his chest and the wind streaming through their hair was the perfect way to relax. 

He grinned as Byleth’s fingers wrapped around his own, her own mouth slanted up in a rare but beautiful smile as she guided the horse towards a meadow they’d discovered not too long ago. “You’re getting more confident, beloved,” he murmured, feeling the blush spread up from her cheeks as his lips moved against her ears.

“Only because you’re still holding the reins,” she replied, and he chuckled as her grip tightened around his, as if checking that he was indeed still in control of the horse. 

“Laimdota is more gentle than you think.” And he couldn’t help but grin at the gasp his wife let out as he released the reins to wrap around her torso, holding her close. “Easy,” he breathed into her ear. “I won’t let you fall. I promise.” 

“I know.” 

The steadiness of her voice warmed his heart. “Just think,” he continued, “you’re doing much better than our first attempt.” 

The resulting snort from Byleth nearly startled Laimdota, the mare’s mane flying upwards as her gait stalled for a moment. Dimitri felt a little pang of guilt at the panicked squeak his wife let loose as she tightened her grip on the reins. “It’s all right,” he soothed her quickly, keeping one arm wrapped around her as the other moved to her hand. “You’re still in control.” 

“Right.” He could almost see her brow furrowing in concentration, as if she were staring down a battalion of bloodthirsty thieves rather than riding a horse. “Still in control.”

* * *

Dear saints above, she was definitely _ not _ in control.

How in the world had she landed in this situation again?

“You’re doing excellent, Professor,” Dimitri said, his face practically beaming with pride as he rode his own mount a few feet away. The animal beneath her legs lumbered along at a slow enough pace, but she could almost feel its urge to snap at her. The thing had even shied away when she’d first tried to mount it, and to her embarrassment Dimitri had to soothe the horse before she could even come close. His brow had furrowed as he held the reins while she did her best to clamber into the saddle. “That’s strange,” he murmured. “Delilah is one of the calmest in the stables.” 

Byleth certainly did not feel calm. But, well, she needed to gain experience in horsemanship: both Sylvain and Dimitri were taking the cavalier exam at the end of the month, and any pointers she could give them would help them pass. The idea felt moot though as she watched Dimitri’s perfect posture, his back ramrod straight as his horse pranced like they were in a parade. 

Her horse, meanwhile, moved slightly faster, as if it were trying to escape a predator nearby. Byleth sighed, making sure to keep her grip on the reins tight. “Rule number one,” Dimitri had said, holding up a finger as if he were in the front of the classroom giving a lecture, “never let go of the reins.” 

“I’ve always found an afternoon ride relaxing,” Dimitri said, and indeed he sounded more relaxed as Byleth looked at him. “To just get away from it all and spend a few hours outside.”

_ I guess I understand. _ As she’d gotten to know her students better, she began to understand the pressures they carried to do well and excel: Ingrid and Ashe’s goals to become knights, Felix to constantly improve his swordsmanship, Annette’s relentless training and drive, Dedue’s loyalty to Dimitri. And Dimitri himself carried the burden of being king someday, along with the pressure of doing well in class. 

Yes, escaping that thought, if only for a few hours, sounded nice indeed. 

She would have just taken a walk, though.

“I’m actually surprised, Professor,” Dimitri admitted, glancing her way. “Sir Jeralt is a cavalryman, is he not? I would have expected him to teach you some horseback riding over the years.”

She just shook her head. “We never tried,” she said quietly over the sound of beating hooves. “Horses have never liked me.” 

Dimitri frowned. “That’s strange. I’d thought for sure that you’d be—”

_ Crack. _

Byleth had no idea what caused the noise. But it didn’t really matter: in a matter of seconds, she saw the world go flying, felt her legs go over her head, and gasped as all the air whooshed out of her lungs. 

“Professor!” 

She heard Dimitri’s cry as if she were underwater, her vision swimming as she lay there in shock. What in the world had just happened? 

The horse. The horse must have startled at the noise, then thrown her off its back. 

Cheeky bastard. 

“Professor, can you hear me?” Dimitri’s voice was much closer this time, his face floating above hers as he looked down in obvious concern. “Are you hurt? No, of course you’re hurt. Where does it hurt?”

Her only response was a groaned, “Everywhere.”

A panicked chuckle escaped Dimitri’s mouth, his face twisted in some bizarre mixture of humor and distress. “Well, at least you’re conscious. Can you sit up for me?” 

She tried, she honestly did. But when she pushed against her palms to try and get up, the world started spinning like she was getting thrown off the horse a _ second _time. “No,” she groaned, lowering herself back to the dirt. “Think I’ve got… concussion.” 

“Ah,” Dimitri sighed, his brow furrowing. “We need to get you back to the monastery. Professor Manuela can look at it for you.” 

Great. That would involve movement, and considering that moving would most likely lead to her throwing up all of her lunch, they were at an impasse. She was half tempted to tell Dimitri to take the blasted animals back to the monastery and leave her to make her way back on her own. One look at the worry on his face told her that was not an option.

“I’m sorry, Professor, but if you can’t move, I’m afraid I have no choice,” he said, his face slowly turning a bright shade of pink. Byleth blinked a few times, absolutely baffled as to what he was talking about. Then, she yelped as he deftly picked her up, holding her in his arms like a small child. Her vision swam, and she quickly squeezed her eyes shut.

Well. This wasn’t too bad. Though Dimitri would certainly have to carry her a long way to get back to the monastery, what with the distance they’d covered—

A wave of nausea — and not a little dread — crashed over her when Dimitri plonked her into the saddle of his horse instead. Another moan slipped past her lips at the jarring motion, and she caught Dimitri’s wince out of the corner of her eye. “I’m so sorry, Professor, but it’ll be the quickest way back,” he explained nervously. “Please, wait here. I’ll go grab Delilah.” 

_ Wait, don’t leave me with this thing… _ But he was already gone, and Byleth sighed as she slumped over, grasping the saddlehorn to stay upright. “Don’t you move now,” she grumbled, keeping her eyes firmly shut.

The horse snorted in response. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at it. 

After a few dizzying minutes, Dimitri returned, the clopping noise of hooves ringing between her ears. “Sorry for the delay,” he apologized again. “I suppose we should head back. But, oh…” She heard him sigh, as if he was bracing himself for some distasteful task. “We’ll have to share the saddle.”

“Share?” 

“Yes,” Dimitri answered, and she blinked as she heard his footsteps draw close. “We can’t risk you falling off another horse again, in your condition.” The contrition in his voice could have crushed a small cat. 

“It’s not your fault, Dimitri,” she said wearily, leaning forward in the saddle to give him room to sit. “It was my idea.” _ My stupid idea. _

“Yes, but I didn’t think…” He trailed off, then let out a grunt, and Byleth’s eyes flew open as he settled into the saddle behind her, chest pressed against her back. “Is it too tight?” he asked, voice bouncing in nervousness. _ “Ah, _ um, I— Am I too close, I mean?”

She shook her head, nearly slumping against the horse’s neck. “Let’s just make it back and forget this ever happened,” she mumbled.

“R-Right.” If she wasn’t dealing with the nausea and blistering headache of the concussion, she would have smiled at Dimitri’s fumbling. He clicked once and the horse moved beneath them, one of his hands holding the reins while the other grasped the reins of her horse, the traitor. 

Huh. This way, without her worrying over guiding the damned animal, seemed a lot more relaxing. Maybe she could understand Dimitri’s love of riding after all. 

* * *

“You know,” Dimitri said as Laimdota slowed to a trot beneath them, his hands still holding Byleth’s own, “we could start training you on riding on your own.” 

The vehemence of Byleth’s headshake sent him into a fit of uproarious laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm already falling more behind than I already am, haha! Oh well. 
> 
> Everyone else is writing super thoughtful and intriguing pieces, and here I am with Byleth sucking at horseback riding. With Dimitri in the saddle she enjoys it obviously, but on her own? Never. Why do horses hate her, you ask? Well, it has to do with the fact that she's got no heartbeat. I'd imagine that animals would sense something a little... off about her. 
> 
> But Delilah's just a nasty little horse too. (Laimdota means giver of joy in Latvian, my second language)


	4. Something Blue

If someone had told Byleth two weeks ago that something as simple as wearing a dagger could ruin a wedding celebration, she would have laughed. Well, chuckled perhaps.

Now, she simply sighed, glancing between Mercedes, Annette, and Hilda (who had traveled all the way from Almyra with Claude and neatly inserted herself into her wedding entourage). “It… It won’t go over well, will it?” she asked, her heart sinking as she looked at the object in her hands. 

“It’s all about the message it sends,” Mercedes said gently, as if she were explaining to a toddler why they weren’t allowed to have cookies for supper. “If you wear a weapon to your own wedding, the nobility may see it as… well, as—”

“As an offensive… gesture,” Annette tried to complete, her voice squeaking into a wince. “I-I mean, I think it would be great, Professor! It’s just that, times being what they are…”

Byleth could finish that sentence herself: strained. Dangerous. Fragile. Despite the fact that the war was over, it certainly didn’t feel like it. They were struggling to rebuild every day, to unify a continent that had been split apart back into a single whole. If she wore this dagger to the ceremony, it would send the message that things weren’t as good as everyone pretended they were. Times were still hard, still dangerous. 

“Well, I think it looks cute,” Hilda tried to reassure her, clapping her hands together. “And it’s totally your look, Professor! The warrior queen, marrying her dashing prince!” She paused, her lips curling back down into a frown. “But, um, Annette and Mercedes are right. It would probably send the wrong message.” 

“I know,” Byleth murmured, yet her fingers clung to the dagger tightly. “I just… My father gave me this. And I know Alois is going to walk me to the altar, but I wanted…” Damn it, were her tears building up already. “I wanted a part of him to be there.” A day hadn’t gone by without wearing the dagger at her hip, though she used it rarely. Just the sight of its blue sheath brought back memories of her first battle, of sitting around the campfire to rest and her father ruffling her hair as he placed the dagger in her hands.

_ “Nice work, kiddo.” _

“Oh, Professor,” Annette whispered, her own eyes looking a bit watery. “We didn’t know.”

And if her own friends didn’t know, the nobility wouldn’t either. Guilt filled her lungs as she placed the dagger carefully on her dressing table, her fingers lingering on the worn golden filigree. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hilda said, her pink eyes flashing as she looked at the dagger. “Hold on a second. Maybe we can make this work. Isn’t there that saying, you know? About weddings and brides and things they’re supposed to have?”

“Oh, of course!” Mercedes cried, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue!” 

Byleth raised an eyebrow; she’d never heard of this custom. Then again, when was the last time she’d actually been to a wedding? Something old, something new, something borrowed…

Well, her dress was borrowed. Due to Kingdom funds proceeding towards the rebuilding effort, she’d declined taking any of it to order a new dress. Instead, her gown was the late Queen Alicia’s — Dimitri’s birth mother’s. She’d wondered if Dimitri would take offense to the idea, but instead had been shocked when he’d fervently agreed. “I’ve always wanted a piece of my mother there,” he’d said softly, looking at the gown with its soft lace and pearls. “I’m sure she would have loved for you to wear it.” 

It had taken a bit of tailoring to fit it to her frame, but looking in the mirror, Byleth couldn’t imagine wearing any other dress. Something borrowed. And something old. 

Looking at the simple headdress adorning her hair, she saw where the pieces had been modified to fit her head instead of Rhea’s, and where they had simplified the design to make it resemble that of a queen’s tiara. She wore it not only as the new Archbishop, but as the future Queen of Faerghus. Something new. 

And, looking at the dagger’s sheath on the vanity, she smiled. Something blue. 

“Here,” Hilda said, and Byleth blinked as she whipped out a golden ribbon seemingly out of nowhere. “If they don’t look closely, they’ll just think it’s an accessory,” she explained, taking the dagger and tying it to her waist. The edges of the ribbon dangled over it like a sash, and Byleth smiled as Hilda pulled back, giving it an appraisal. “Well?” she asked, looking at the other two ladies.

“I think it works!” Annette said, her arms bobbing up and down in excitement. “Ah, who cares what the nobility think, right? It’s the memories that matter!”

“And if they do complain, you can just say you’re keeping to tradition,” Mercedes added with a playful wink. 

“Thank you, all of you,” Byleth said softly, her eyes wet with fresh tears as she looked at herself in the mirror. “I think… I think I’m ready now.” 

And later, when she walked down the aisle in the palace’s grand chapel, Dimitri’s eye widening as he caught sight of the dagger on her hip, she remembered another tradition. 

_ “In Faerghus, when you give someone a dagger, you’re giving them a means to cut their way to a new future.”  _

Her smile widened as her hands joined her future husband’s, his fingers wrapping around hers.

Yes, this was a wonderful future she was cutting a path to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm just saying that Byleth would never attend a crowded public event without having some sort of weapon on her. 
> 
> Also, I'm later than late (no surprise there) but I had a lot of fun with this one. Also, Dimitri totally loved that his wife was wearing a dagger to their wedding, and bawled when he first saw her wearing his mom's dress. I'm a sucker for stuff like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! It's my first time doing a shipping week, and I'm excited. I was originally not planning on doing this, but I got struck by inspiration and had to run with it. I hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave comments and reviews. :D


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